


Look At Me

by Ulthar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, rated Teen AS USUAL because I did ONE SWEAR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulthar/pseuds/Ulthar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime between Seasons 2 and 3, after Melissa found out Scott was a werewolf and things calmed down enough for her to process the information.  This is the awkward mother-son bonding scene I wanted to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look At Me

“So you are…you really are…a…a werewolf?”

It was a question.  Even though she knew the answer, it really was a question.  And even though months had passed, and he should be used to it by now, the sound of that word still made him twitch.  It was as if he was back on the day all this had begun, when he and Stiles had dug up a body and then Scott had almost punched a hole in the roof of the Jeep because the idiot had kept saying that word.

He had thought he was over that now.  But now _she_ was saying it, and everything was the same; he was just as confused and just as terrified and probably going to be killed—so he clenched his fists and remembered to breathe.  He became painfully aware, again, for the first time in weeks, of claws curled in his fingertips, of unnaturally strong muscles tensed in his shoulders as if they wanted to tear him apart, of the fact that he could hear his mother’s heartbeat from across the kitchen table.

Of course, he could hear his own heartbeat, louder.

Scott breathed again, and nodded.  Then he stared blankly at the wood grain on the table, waiting for her to make the next move.  He did not know what he was expecting.  He could incapacitate a person twice his size, cow a snarling husky with a look, claw a hole in a brick wall—but he had no idea how he was supposed to deal with his mother, cornering him at last.  He felt like a treed fox.

“Hey,” she said at last.  “Look at me.”  Her tone was gentle.  With some trepidation, he raised his eyes.

“How long has… _this_ been going on?”  She hadn’t said that word again, which was a blessing.

“Uh…since last fall.”  He began to talk very fast, and his eyes drifted back to the table.  “Do you remember that night the police were looking for half a dead body in the woods, and Stiles found out about it, and so we went looking for it, even though you had told me we really needed to stop doing things like that, and so we didn’t tell you, but you probably found out because I lost my inhaler and Stiles’ dad must have told you anyway?  Yeah.  That’s when I got…bitten.”

It hurt to say the last word, because it was related to _that_ word, which he _really_ thought he had come to terms with ages ago.  He had been fine with Stiles, fine, in a tense way, with Derek, even with Allison, but now, face to face with the last normal human in his life, the extent to which he _wasn’t_ was crushing him.  Not fine.  Not normal.  Not even—

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  Scott looked up.  She had leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed, looking stern.  Scott raised an eyebrow at her.

“Right,” she sighed.  “Stupid question.”

Scott smiled weakly.  The corner of his mother’s mouth twitched as well.  Then she leaned forward, suddenly momlike again.  “This is why you’re failing school.”

Scott nodded.  She scowled at him.  “What?  Does being a…does this keep you from doing your homework?”

Scott raised both eyebrows.  “Yes!  People are trying to kill me!  Allison’s grandfather and a giant lizard thing and Peter Hale—”

“Wait, Peter?”  Of all things, she had latched onto that.  “He wasn’t—he was nice!”

“No.  No!  He was creepy and psychotic and I tried to warn you but—” for the first time, Scott looked his mother square in the eyes.  “Mom.  He was the one who…turned me.  And he threatened to do it to you too.”  He was pleading now, desperate for her to understand.

Her expression softened.  “Is it really that bad?”

His desperation turned to frustration.  “Yes!  And I can’t make anybody understand!  All the rest of them think about is being powerful or good at lacrosse or whatever but I—”

Scott heard his mother gasp and looked down at his hands, lying on the table in front of him.  As he had spoken, his nails had grown into long, ugly hooks.  He closed his fists, hard.  When he opened them, they were smeared with blood, but the claws were gone, and there were no wounds.  He clenched his teeth and felt them shrink.  He stared at the blood.

“I’m not…I’m not in _control_ anymore.  Not of my emotions, not of my body.  I’m a second away from trying to tear somebody’s throat out with my teeth, all the time, all the _fucking_ time.  It’s under my _skin_ , waiting, waiting to take me over, to make me _change_.  I can’t trust anyone I meet not to try to kill me, and I can’t even trust myself.  It’s exhausting.  I don’t know how I’ve kept it in check for so long, and don’t know how much longer I can manage it…”

He was shaking, still staring at his hands.  Time passed, and he started to regain a semblance of composure.

“Werewolf,” his mother murmured thoughtfully, too quietly for a human to hear.  Scott flinched.

“Hey,” she whispered.  “Look at me.”  He did.

She took one of his bloody hands in her own.  “It’s going to be okay.”


End file.
